


Pink

by Hex_Arcadia



Series: Oh, Baby. [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, Not Beta Read, POV Jughead Jones, POV Veronica Lodge, Teen Pregnancy, Underage Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Veronica Lodge is pregnant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28830402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hex_Arcadia/pseuds/Hex_Arcadia
Summary: Pink. A color that has never held any significance in Veronica’s life outside of the gender norms society has collectively decided means she was born with a vagina.She thinks there might be one photo of her as a baby in a pink Easter dress with enough ruffles to drown her, but as long as Veronica can remember she’s been cloaked in jewel tones and darkness. She’s never chosen an article of pink clothing for herself or pink polish. Never has the color meant anything beyond the tinted sky of a fiery summer sunset, or the color of the frosting of her favorite cupcakes back in New York. Never has the rosy hue ever been weighted heavily in favor of any aspect of Veronica’s life.Until now…
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Series: Oh, Baby. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124543
Comments: 101
Kudos: 214





	1. Pink

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many unfinished stories that I have chapters written for, but alas I haven't posted. This one-shot has been stuck in my brain for so long, and with Riverdale on the horizon, I thought why not put it out there? Keeping it a one-shot for now, but if it generates enough interest I might consider expanding. I'm trash at commitments though, so no promises! I hope you like this, and it's received well. I haven't seen anything else like it. Thanks for reading! Oh, and this isn't beta'd and I wrote it at 3 am because I literally could not sleep unless I got it out into the world. Be kind!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pink. A color that has never held any significance in Veronica’s life outside of the gender norms society has collectively decided means she was born with a vagina.
> 
> She thinks there might be one photo of her as a baby in a pink Easter dress with enough ruffles to drown her, but as long as Veronica can remember she’s been cloaked in jewel tones and darkness. She’s never chosen an article of pink clothing for herself or pink polish. Never has the color meant anything beyond the tinted sky of a fiery summer sunset, or the color of the frosting of her favorite cupcakes back in New York. Never has the rosy hue ever been weighted heavily in favor of any aspect of Veronica’s life.
> 
> Until now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many unfinished stories that I have chapters written for, but alas I haven't posted. This one-shot has been stuck in my brain for so long, and with Riverdale on the horizon, I thought why not put it out there? Keeping it a one-shot for now, but if it generates enough interest I might consider expanding. I'm trash at commitments though, so no promises! I hope you like this, and it's received well. I haven't seen anything else like it. Thanks for reading! Oh, and this isn't beta'd and I wrote it at 3 am because I literally could not sleep unless I got it out into the world. Be kind!

Pink. A color that has never held any significance in Veronica’s life outside of the gender norms society has collectively decided means she was born with a vagina. 

She thinks there might be one photo of her as a baby in a pink Easter dress with enough ruffles to drown her, but as long as Veronica can remember she’s been cloaked in jewel tones and darkness. She’s never chosen an article of pink clothing for herself or pink polish. Never has the color meant anything beyond the tinted sky of a fiery summer sunset, or the color of the frosting of her favorite cupcakes back in New York. Never has the rosy hue ever been weighted heavily in favor of any aspect of Veronica’s life.

Until now…

Pink controls everything as it glares at Veronica in the form of two tiny vertical lines, side by side as they spell out her entire future by just existing. In a matter of two minutes, everything has changed; her world tipped on its axis as everything slips sideways and she has to drop the test to grip the cool marble of her vanity to remain upright. 

Veronica looks at herself in the mirror. She doesn’t look any different, yet everything is different all the same. Her eyes shine darkly in the natural light, reflecting the oranges and yellows of the room around her as they examine every single inch of her face. She wonders if to anyone that isn’t her, she might look different but she knows she doesn’t, not yet. She will in a few months though.

Won’t she? Veronica has a real moment where her mind runs through all of her options in a matter of seconds.

She could get rid of it. She knows how. She knows where to go and she certainly has the money to pay for it. Does Veronica Lodge want to become a statistic? Another teen mom for the martyrs to tear to shreds under their shouts of “sinner” and “miscreant”. Does she want to sacrifice her body before she’s even fully grown into it? She hasn’t even turned 18 yet, can she be that selfish? Veronica doesn’t know if she has the right. She doesn’t know anything anymore, except she’s pregnant and she really doesn’t know if she could go through with an abortion. Pro-choice has never felt more important for her to believe in, even if it makes her tongue taste like ash thinking of it now.

She could give her baby away for adoption, do the selfless thing, and have her sacrifice matter. Sure, everyone would know she was pregnant but that’s where their knowledge would end. It would be the talk of Riverdale; Hiram lodges pride and joy knocked up at 17. She can hear the whispers in the hallways at school. She can already feel her peer’s eyes, burning holes into her as she walks down the hall. Watching and waiting for her belly to grow bigger as she teeters on her heels even in her later months. This choice would save everyone's heartache, except her, but at least she could live with this decision. 

But…

There’s some small part of Veronica, a flutter in her chest as her coal orbs drag themselves down her torso to settle on her still flat, still toned tummy. 

She could keep it. She could endure the stares and the whispers. She could swallow her pride, and slather her belly in coconut oil while reading pregnancy books when she isn’t studying for her SAT’s. She could stay in Riverdale, go to community college instead of NYU like she had planned. The sacrifice, she quickly realizes, goes far beyond her body. She could live at home, have Hermione watch her baby while she’s in class. She already has her job at Pop’s. The corners of her mouth flick up ever so slightly, followed immediately by the absolutely heartbreaking reality that if she goes with this option, she has even more secrets to keep.

Veronica immediately has to vomit, falling to her knees as the untold truth of nights spent in commiseration paints her reality with dark-haired babies that peer at her with blue-green eyes as they nurse. Perfect cherub cheeks sprinkled in beauty marks that dance across pale skin like stars in the sky. She knows she can never tell him, even when he confronts her about it like she knows he will the second her skirts stretch a bit too tight in the middle. She’ll deny it, and when her baby is born all dark edges and sharp lines she’ll lie until she’s blue in the face to save him.

Jughead. Sweet, forgiving Jughead who had chosen Betty even though she chose Archie when he wasn’t even a choice. Veronica sits back against the wall, eyes shiny with unshed tears that are both a mixture of the pressure she’s facing, the vomit that had just been forced from her stomach, and the memories that flood her consciousness. 

4 weeks prior...

“Do you think they considered our feelings at all?” Veronica asks her beanie clad boothmate, stirring the cream into her melting milkshake as he stares at an untouched plate of onion rings.  
She doesn’t think he’s going to answer her, doesn’t even know he’s heard her until his hand yanks at the iconic cap on his head and drags it off, releasing his dark locks to stick in whichever way they want. “Does it matter?” He asks, running a hand through his hair and letting his head fall back onto the vinyl behind him. She only notices the tear slip down his cheek when it catches in the diner lights. “Does it change anything? They still did it.”

She stills her stirring, blinking back the tears she’s been crying for a week. “I just, I wonder if it makes it better or worse if they didn’t think of us at all.”  
Jughead doesn’t lift his head, but he does stare down his nose at her. He sees her blot under her eyes, trying to prevent her mascara from running too bad. He’s seen her an absolute mess, rivers of inky black makeup tarring her flawless complexion on that first night when she’d run from Archie’s house and he from his own next door. As they ran from those they loved, and who were supposed to love them too. She couldn’t stand the thought of going home, and he had his broken heart as living proof he wasn’t good enough, so they had retreated to the Chock’lit Shoppe. A safe space for both of them, where he had held her as she cried into his leather lapels and he had let tears drip against the crown of her head.

They’ve met at Pop’s every night since. Unplanned, yet never unwelcomed as they both seek comfort in knowing there is strength in numbers. 

“Better,” he tells her after a beat. “It makes it better.”

Veronica barks a watery laugh, pushing her milkshake aside. She has no appetite. “Why better?”

“Because,” Jughead starts, sitting forward to rest his forearms against the table and give her his full attention. Veronica sees his brows drawn over his eyes, mouth set in a scowl. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him look more intense. “If they thought of us at all, and still decided to go through with it, then we meant even less to them than we can even fathom.”

Her breath catches in her throat, a gasp pushes through her parted lips as she rolls that thought around in her brain. He’s right, like usual, though she will never admit to him he’s a lot smarter than she’s given him credit for. 

“You see, Veronica,” Jughead continues. “I’ve always been Betty’s second choice. A consolation prize, if you will. I deserve this. But you, you were supposed to be special. Archie chose you. He made you feel safe. I’ve never felt safe. I know I’ll die 1000 times but you’ve always thought you’re invincible. News flash, you’re Ophelia, and we both know how that story ends.”

He’s right, she’s drowning in his words as the waves crash down around her, and Jughead Jones is absolutely right. He’s brash, and she thinks his pinched tone is directed at her but not a product of her, and he is absolutely fucking right.

Veronica’s vision is blurring around the edges and Jughead is piercing her with his eyes rimmed in pink from his own tears, and she can’t breathe. This is too much and her perfect exterior fractures as Jughead’s words rattle inside of her skull creating fissures in an already patchworked foundation built on trust issues and manipulation. She feels bad. Bad for herself, and bad for him as another tear leaks out of the corner of his eyes and she sees him. She really sees him, and he is absolutely the most human he has ever looked without his crown, stripped bare. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, was ever good enough, and somehow that breaks her heart even more.

“No one deserves this, Jug,” she whispers, and her hand drops down to cover his. “Not me, not you, no one. You deserve to be someone’s first choice.”

“And you deserve to be someone’s only choice,” he doesn’t hesitate, holding her gaze.

“Jughead,” her voice is soft but his hair looks softer, and she has the sudden urge to twirl the raven curl that twines down his temple. 

“Do you know what it’s like to feel like an outsider in your own home?” He asks her, flipping his hand so they’re palm to palm. “To feel so broken you’d rather sleep on the street or in a closet instead of under a roof? I’ve been sneaking in late and leaving before anyone else is awake. What am I supposed to do Veronica? How am I supposed to stay there and look at her every day, to look at my family, and know every single one of them has decided I’m not good enough at one point or another?”

“Daddy’s been grooming Archie since the beginning,” she admits easily, and she notices their fingers sliding over one another’s in featherlight touches. Her gaze is drawn to their hands. “Archie is an investment and I’ve been nothing but a pawn for Daddy to use. When he finds out I’ve failed, and he will, I’ll be the one to suffer the consequences. I might not know what it feels like to be an outsider but I do know what it’s like to wonder if the idea of family is one of the greatest fiction’s ever written.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses and she sees the way he fights to stay in control of his emotions. “I feel so alone- “

“-you’re not alone,” she interrupts, and she thinks they really see each other for the very first time in all the years they’ve known one another.

“Neither are you.”

Veronica isn’t why she decides to lead him down to La Bonne Nuit. She doesn’t know when they pushed themselves away from their nook, the booth they always chose. She isn’t even sure what her intention was when she had made the suggestion, but she does know he didn’t hesitate for a moment to follow her when she had rubbed a thumb across the knob of his wrist and told him neither of them had to go home if they didn’t want to. 

That’s how it starts. In a booth near the back of the speakeasy. Two lost souls connecting over their mutual pain and chasing their demons away in the most carnal way they can think of.  
She rides him until her thighs burn and she physically can’t keep going. 

He sucks marks into her skin and pins her hips to the soft velvet fabric of the cushion until he’s shaking from the effort.

“Don’t cum inside of me,” she whispers somewhere between dragging her nails down his back and her second orgasm, but when his hips grow erratic and she’s riding her third wave she forgets that rule completely and he bottoms out inside of her as she’s filled up. 

Hours. They fuck like animals for hours, because they both know when they’re done the harsh reality that everyone they’ve ever loved, has never loved them back comes crashing down and suffocates them both. She should be more worried his cum is leaking out of her and coats her thighs, but she just can’t bring herself to care when she feels lighter than she has since she’s found out her boyfriend was unfaithful in both mind and body.

“You can stay here,” Veronica whispers into Jughead's hair, twirling the curl she had been admiring upstairs between her middle and pointer fingers as he rests his head on her chest.

“Hmm,” he hums, because they’ve been wrapped around each other for a while and she thinks he looks awfully relaxed.

“There’s um,” she swallows, “there’s a studio in the back. Well, it’s not so much a studio as it is a twin bed and a desk shoved into a closet for those nights I have to stay late and am too tired to drive home. It’s yours for however long you need it.”

It takes some convincing, but she finally makes him believe her when she says she wants him here after another round of bruising sex and hushed whispers in the dim lighting. He brings a backpack of clothes and toiletries the very next day, and every night for two weeks they have sex in pursuit of shreds of happiness. After a few days, she notices he actually smiles, which elicits a smile from her when she notices his two front teeth are just barely too big for his mouth. After a week they’re laughing together, and she starts spending more nights curled up next to him.

She thinks this is a dangerous game they’re playing, but she doesn’t stop it.

They don’t tell a soul, and at school, they keep up appearances. She dabs on concealer to hide the marks he leaves on her. He keeps his face set in a permanent scowl, and neither of them gives anyone any reason to think they’re coming together, literally and figuratively, when the sunsets. Veronica finds it easier to ignore Archie’s pleas for forgiveness and she even starts to wonder what it might be like to be Jughead’s only choice, until…

“Betty apologized again today,” he tells her, propped against a pillow on the little bed he’s slept on since this all started. 

They’re still naked from their latest session, and Veronica drags her eyes up from the dark line of hair she was admiring below his belly button to his face. He doesn’t meet her gaze, choosing to look at a crack that runs up the plaster near the door instead. 

“Oh,” Veronica feels a pit in her belly. He hasn’t mentioned Betty in a week, and she already knows before he says anything why he’s bringing her up now. “You’re going to forgive her, aren’t you?”  
She hasn’t seen him cry since the first night they had sex, over two weeks ago, but it’s just as jarring now as it was then. He fights the tears that fill his eyes but she knows what they mean. He is. He’s going to forgive Betty, which means this is the last time she gets to have him.

She feels a fit of stingy jealousy that prickles the hair on the back of her neck, but she tells herself it’s only because Archie has stopped trying to apologize when Betty has not. She tells herself she misses Archie, but she knows that’s a lie. She tells herself she feels happy for him, but that’s a lie too.

“I just,” he tells her, sniffing, “I just need to try. One more time, that’s all. She swears it won’t happen again and I, I don’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, not sure if she should reach out and touch him again or if that’s even an option anymore. 

“Will you be okay?” He asks her, finally looking at her. “Veronica, you’re so amazing and I can’t leave this if you won’t be.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest, and she wants to tell him no she won’t, but she can’t. She won’t. Jughead Jones deserves happiness. He deserves to choose that happiness, and if he chooses Betty then that’s that and she needs to accept it. Whatever fantasy was beginning to form in her mind is no more, and never was. She does a poor job of convincing herself she doesn’t care about him as she screws a smile onto her face and lets him know that Veronica Lodge will always be okay.

Inside she dies a little when he catches her mouth in a sweet kiss and thanks her, promising he’ll always be there for her if she needs him.

Boy does she need him now, she thinks as the cracks in her veneer cave and she crumbles into herself on the bathroom floor, back in the present nightmare she's living. 

Veronica cries then. She cries because she knows he meant it when he said he would be there. He would be there for their baby, and her. She cries because even though Betty hurt her and she’s only just begun to learn how to forgive her and Archie both, she doesn’t want to crush either of them and she knows she will if she goes the route her heart is telling her to go. She cries because she is utterly, and absolutely alone because she knows she will never put Jughead in the position she’s in.

She cries because she’s only 17, and she has no idea what she’s going to do with a baby. She knows her parents may try and send her away to have the baby so the media doesn’t find out, but she’ll refuse. She’ll be 18 soon, on January 12th, and then they won’t be able to force her to go anywhere. She’ll just have to wait until then to tell them. Six weeks; she can wait six more weeks.

Veronica pulls herself up from the floor, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt before she gracefully reaches down to swipe up the test she had dropped moments ago. She feels like a bad person. She feels like she’s ruined lives, maybe even her own, but then she glances down and sees the pink lines again and she’s reminded there’s one more life in the equation she needs to consider. Her baby. The precious life she has growing inside of her. The life that Jughead helped create. Jughead’s baby.

‘No’, Veronica thinks to herself firmly. She shakes the flash of an image out of her head that includes them in a family dynamic; Jughead coddling a tiny baby with a tiny crown beanie. She reprimands herself for even allowing her mind to conjure up the image, remembering the night he chose Betty Cooper over her just like Archie did.

She won’t tell him, even though he’ll know. She won’t tell anyone. Let them think what they want about her when she says she doesn’t know who the father is. None of them matter anyway, and maybe they never have. She’s leaving Riverdale after she graduates, she decides, a direct conflict of interest from her initial thought process; she just has to make it through the rest of the school year.  
Veronica Lodge won’t tell Jughead Jones he’s a father; that he’s going to be a father. He’ll confront her, she knows he will, but she’ll just hide it as long as possible. Maybe she’ll even tell him she had a tryst with some unknown patron of her speakeasy one lonely night to get him off her trail. As long as he’s happy, with Betty, his only choice, Veronica will let him go. She can do this. She’s always persevered.

After all, he was never even a choice for her to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, leave some love if you enjoyed it. I like hearing from my readers!


	2. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like drowning; swirling dark blue waters swallowing him up and dragging him under. From the moment Betty had opened her mouth, Jughead knew whatever razor's edge he’d been walking was slicing him through. 
> 
> Three words, having the exact opposite effect than another trio of words Betty has whispered to him. A knife through the heart. White-hot pain, followed by ice-cold pinpricks of anxiety creeping up his spine. He knew this would happen. He knew from the very beginning Betty would never choose him, not when it counted. No one chooses Jughead, not even his own mom had chosen him.
> 
> Then Veronica had chosen him, even if it was temporary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love on 'Pink'! I've decided to post a bit of Jughead's POV, as chapter two of this first two-part story. This briefing is part of the collection I've aptly decided to name Oh Baby. Once again, this isn't beta'd so please be kind. Future parts of the collection will be other short chaptered stories and one-shots of moments I'm inspired by when considering a Jeronica pregnancy. The timeline is a bit different, so let me explain; Stonewall Prep just happened the first semester of school and now they have this last, final semester to get through. That's when our story will take place. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who's left me a comment or a kudos. I love you guys! Here's a bit of Jughead.

It feels like drowning; swirling dark blue waters swallowing him up and dragging him under. From the moment Betty had opened her mouth, Jughead knew whatever razor's edge he’d been walking was slicing him through. 

“I kissed Archie,” she’d said, big blue eyes staring at a piece of her cream-colored carpet.

Three words, having the exact opposite effect than another trio of words Betty has whispered to him. A knife through the heart. White-hot pain, followed by ice-cold pinpricks of anxiety creeping up his spine. He knew this would happen. He knew from the very beginning Betty would never choose him, not when it counted. No one chooses Jughead, not even his own mom had chosen him.

Jughead remembers that night vividly, even eight weeks later as he’s skulking down the halls of Riverdale High School on the first day back after their final winter break as seniors. He isn’t even sure what he’s doing anymore, going through the motions of this day in a haze; an automatic mode of existence as he ducks his head and keeps his headphones snuggly over his ears.

When he’s at his locker, and Betty bounces up to him, he feels it again. He feels that immeasurable heartbreak, and the anger at her infidelity. She smiles her small, nervous smile that used to tug on his heart but now has another meaning hidden behind the smirk. Jughead can’t shake Archie from his mind when Betty leans in to kiss him good morning.

He had run that night when she had confessed. He’s a Jones man after. Something that’s generationally meant he’d fulfilled his namesake's modus operandi, and the only way he could think to breathe again. Lungs on fire, burning him from the inside out and bile churning his stomach. Not being able to face the girl he thought he had loved since he was a kid. It couldn’t have been love though, right? Not really. Love isn’t emotionally attaching to other people, and then kissing them behind your partner’s back.

Jughead had run.

Betty had not.

He had run until he couldn’t run, salty fat tears stinging his blue-green eyes. Feet carrying him to the only safe place he’s ever known without thought. Pops being the only adult in Riverdale he knew wouldn’t push him right now. Vision blurring, unaware he wasn’t the only one who had run from Elm Street that night. Feeling alone, but not alone in his pain as tiny feet teetering in red bottoms were running too. It’s not until he’d tucked into his booth in the corner, panic attack gripping his throat, he saw her push through the same doors he just had.

Veronica. Hair hung lank, the fog outside clinging to the shiny strands until they’re weighted down. Her normal posture of elegance hunched, face fallen as her eyes meet his and he knows she knows. He knows she had been with Archie, had seen her briefly through the window from his (Betty’s?) bedroom into his (former?) best friend’s. Her brown eyes held the same swirling pain he knows is in his.  
Jughead remembers Veronica sliding into his side of the booth, something she had never done before but is not unwelcome. She’s a reminder that he isn’t alone, even when he feels like it, and he isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or worse. 

Neither of them had ordered a thing while they sat together in silent heartbreak. He remembers when he had first heard a small sniffle and had realized she had been crying. The indomitable Veronica Lodge, breaking down in front of his very eyes, a shattered shell of the grandiose rich girl she had once been. 

Was it possible for him to feel worse for her than himself? He’d known he would one day face his biggest fears, that he wasn’t good enough, but Veronica had never had to face the known truth. She was truly and honestly fractured as her soul leaked out of her eyes and dripped onto pop’s tables, and it had taken him only a moment of hesitation before he had wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Jughead sees her now, head held high as she makes her way down the center of the hall on her way to her own locker. He sees her, perfect veneer slid back into place and he starts to wonder if he had ever seen her cry at all. She looks unaffected and absolutely perfect, and something inside of him is pulling on him to go to her; like there’s an invisible string connecting the two of them made of secrets and sex.

He has a sudden memory slip into his frontal lobe. Veronica is laughing at something he’s said as they’re lying naked in the tiny cot she has set in the back of her speakeasy. She’s beautiful and raw, and at that moment he thinks she might’ve been all his. He remembers what it was like to kiss her and he briefly wonders if any of it was authentic, or just a result of their shared commiseration.

Veronica had let him go back to Betty so easily. She hadn’t fought him at all when he had told her he was forgiving the blonde, even if in his heart he knew he never could. What had he wanted from that night? Veronica, to choose him? Veronica to fight for him, and show him the two weeks they had spent together weren’t just a band-aid for her? She had simply smiled at him, and told him if he was happy then she would be happy for him.

Was Jughead happy? He sees Betty next to him, sees her mouth moving as she talks to him but he doesn’t hear her. He knows he should be happy. He’s back at home, back in his room. Betty has been doing unspeakable things trying to earn his favor back and he’s finally beaten Archie at something so he should be filled with joy. He made a choice. Jughead chose to go back, and it’s been great since so shouldn’t he be grateful? He thinks so…

Then Veronica’s eyes meet his over Betty’s shoulders and it’s like vertigo; the world drops around him and he has to swallow his declaration of admiration before he’s screaming at her she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even if she let him go. Or did he let her go? He’s been thinking of Veronica in the few weeks it’s been since he’s seen her and he’s often pondered over the whirlwind their relationship had been through.

From strangers to acquaintances, to quasi-friends, where they had remained for the majority of their three years of mutual acknowledgment. Then in a matter of three weeks, they had crossed every single line in the sand they had ever drawn for one another. It took one day of Veronica slobbering into his shoulder for him to see her as a human, and less than a week later for him to see her as a woman.

Those nights spent with Veronica had quite literally saved him from himself, and when he was buried inside of her, he could’ve sworn he saw and felt things he’s never seen or felt before. He had no idea what took them so long to finally see one another as more than “my best friend’s girlfriend/boyfriend”. They had discovered everything they had in common; from parents who used them or let them down, to literary appreciation, all the way to obscure music and a healthy dose of sarcastic wit. In the moments they spent laid intertwined they had really connected on more than just physical planes.

But oh, the physical connection.

Jughead has never had sex like he had sex with Veronica. That first night had been about pain, and he thinks some part of them fucking like wildlings is a direct result of the human affinity for revenge. A power move, in the booth at the back of her speakeasy. He had been shaking when they were done, muscles contracting under his skin. Then it happened again, and again, and by the third night, they were sleeping together for another reason that had nothing to do with pain.

Jughead sees a flicker of some emotion he can’t quite place make the muscles in her face twitch ever so slightly, and he wonders if seeing him is having the same visceral reaction on her it is him.   
He doesn’t even have a moment to consider it though, as Betty catches his glance and turns to see her best friend sneaking past them.

“Veronica!” His girlfriend calls out, just as the raven-haired princess is just next to them. 

“Betty,” she responds with a smile that seems only slightly forced. Then she turns to him, and some of the strain dips out of the crinkles next to her sloe eyes as she nods at him. “Jughead, hi.”

All he can manage to do is give her a tilt of his chin before he has to turn away, the excuse of him unloading his backpack into his locker a welcome reprieve from having to suffocate under the weight of every good and bad decision he’s ever made. He can see Betty shift in his peripherals, can hear her ask Veronica how she is, and that she’s missed her. She hears Veronica laugh sweetly, and downplay everything that’s happened to her at the hands of the very girl trying to make amends as if she wasn’t a porcelain doll fractured and glued back together.

He catches a flash of blue and yellow to his left and a flash of red hair. Archie, with his crew of bulldogs. It doesn’t matter how much time everyone has spent together, or the things they’ve all been through. It’s like being back at square one; Archie glances in their direction, the girls grow quiet, and Jughead is at the center of it all and he’s so fucking uncomfortable. He’s back to being that weirdo in 9th grade. He’s back to wanting to hide, and he’s angry and who the fuck was he trying to kid?

Jughead is mad, and it’s not okay his former best friend kissed his girlfriend. It’s not okay she’s standing next to him, with the other girl he kissed and wants to kiss again but he can’t. None of it’s okay. Everything is fractured and Jughead thought he could get over it, that he should get over it because he got his Betty but he isn’t even sure he wants her anymore. The hair on the back of Jughead’s neck stands up and his fists curl as he slams his locker shut a little harder than he needs to. 

“Hey,” he hears Betty, feels her palm come to rest on his jean-clad arm. “Juggy, you okay?”

He looks at Veronica then, looking at him, and he sees it again; a flicker of some emotion he can’t place, and what’s that? Is she nervous? Her fists are curled up, and she just swallowed harder than normal. He wants to ask her if she’s okay, never mind him, but Betty is looking at him with those eyes that he can’t seem to swim out of.

He wants to scream. He wants to shake Betty by the shoulders and yell at her. To ask her what about any of this is okay? How is he supposed to be okay? He wants to tell her he fucked Veronica, and that he liked it. He wants to tell her he wants to do it again, and sometimes when he’s inside of her, he closes his eyes and pretends her hair is as dark as her eyes. He wants to kiss Veronica right here in this hallway in front of all of these people he barely knows, even if he’s spent the last four years with them. Kiss her in front of Archie. Kiss her in front of Betty. He wants to hurt them as they hurt him, like they hurt Veronica. He wants them to know they’re not the only ones capable of causing pain, but most of all he just wants to do it again For himself, and maybe for her. Period.

“Jughead?” Betty says again, and the haze lifts when Veronica lowers her eyes to the chipped tile at her toes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I’m, yeah. I’m fine Betts. I’m just not feeling very well.”

“Are you nervous?” She asks him, knowing this is the second time he’s come back to Riverdale after two failed attempts at other schools. In his defense, Southside High had been closed down and Stonewall Prep had literally tried to have him killed and had figuratively succeeded.

He nods his head, even though it’s not the complete truth. Yes, Jughead is nervous, but that’s not what’s wrong right now. Right now, he’s just mixed up. Messed up, and trying to keep his head above the dark blue waters that are threatening to drag him under with every second he’s planted to this spot under the guise of normalcy. Like his entire life wasn’t ripped out from underneath him a couple of months ago.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back with us,” she smiles at him. “I wouldn’t want to do the rest of this year without you.”

“Um,” Veronica states, a tight-lipped smile flashing in their direction. “I need to get to homeroom, but it was nice seeing you B. You too Jughead.” 

“See you at lunch?” Betty asks hopefully, and Jughead sees how she’s trying so hard to chase the bit of a normal teenage experience she’s always craved. He wonders if she knows by kissing Archie, she’s nailed her own coffin shut on that.

“Actually no,” Veronica takes a deep breath, and Jughead watches her carefully. There’s still something off about her. Even if she’s feeling like him, and wants to get out, he doesn’t want her to be alone. “I’m eating in the library today. I’ve been trying to focus on my SATs.”

“Oh,” his girlfriend says, and he’s suddenly very aware he hasn’t actually said a single word to Veronica. “That’s okay.”

It’s not okay.

It will never be okay again.

Jughead watches Veronica turn and leave, and kisses Betty goodbye as she leaves for class. She looks sad, and he knows she misses the way things used to be. He knows he should care, but he can’t and won’t. He watches Betty’s ponytail swinging as she heads down the hall, the same direction Veronica’s locker is in.

He sees Veronica at the third block of lockers, about a dozen away from his own, a direct cause and effect of their surnames in relation to the alphabet. He’s ready to get this day over with, and he’s committed to leaving the exposure of being amongst all of their peers in this public hallway when she turns her head and catches his eyes again.

There’s something there, Jughead can see it in the way she studies him. Like she’s trying to memorize his features. He sees it in the way the corner of her lip quirks up to match the way his has taken shape at the mere sight of her at this moment, sharing a secret smile. Quite possibly the first time he’s genuinely smiled in weeks. He sees it when she shrugs out of her coat and brushes the hair from her shoulders; ghosts of the bruises he’s sucked into her tanned skin burned into his memory. He sees it when she looks at him from beneath her lashes, and he knows it’s not just in his mind. He briefly wonders if there’s a sliver of what could’ve been hanging in the air between them, shivering up the string that’s connecting them and vibrating parts of him he hasn’t even realized were dormant.   
Then she bites back on her tongue, and her face crumples before she plasters on the fake Veronica Lodge: iconic, untouchable, unshakeable. A façade, built from years of grooming, and slams her locker shut before storming away from him without so much as another glance.

Jughead watches her go until she’s gone, around the corner, and disappeared. Then he’s off to his own homeroom to get this day over with his head down. He knows he needs to talk to Veronica. They’ve got so many unspoken words between them, and they haven’t had a single conversation since that night he had left the speakeasy for the last time. Not that he hasn’t thought of texting her, but that didn’t feel right. When she didn’t text him either, he realized his intuition had been right and she was happy to have him gone. 

But then he saw her, and now he can’t stop thinking about her. Then he saw her and he saw something else, something shining deep in her eyes that speak louder than his intuition. He feels inspired.  
Jughead vows to write when he gets home, about choppy blue waters during a storm, and the power of a beautiful sunrise. Or maybe he’ll write about brown eyes, and how he finds himself much more into them than blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave me some love and let me know what you think!!


	3. Elephants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica tells her parents, but she can't possibly tell Hiram Jughead is the father. Not if she wants him alive. Not if she wants him...at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay...I do have ideas flowing through me so I'll be updating when they strike and I get them written down. Still not committing to a posting structure, and still not having anyone beta this story (so continue to be gentle), but I'm really liking how it's shaping up! I'm not sure if I'll just keep posting chapters, or break off into some other one-shot type stuff. Guys, I'm just a hot mess, and this just sort of happened with no plan so we're just going to roll with it. *shrug*

Veronica sits at the large marble table, perfectly manicured fingernails rest against its cool exterior. On the outside, a stranger might say Veronica is the epitome of a healthy lineage and good upbringing. Her hair is perfectly styled to rest in loose waves around her shoulders, and her clothes are obviously very expensive and fit her like a glove no thanks to the tailer her family keeps on hand. No doubt Veronica Lodge looks like nothing can touch her or tear her down.

On the inside, she’s absolutely screaming.

To her right sits Hiram, his perfect posture and muscled frame intimidating in his Ralph Lauren suit. Veronica knows the price tag of said suit is more than some people make in a whole month, but she knows her daddy wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to bloody the dark grey fabric. 

Hermione is across from her, lined eyes narrowed just enough to let her daughter know she’s listened and she is in no way pleased. Though she is much smaller than her father, Veronica knows Hermione is just as vicious. She’s also had blood spilled across her Jimmy Choo pumps, and she hadn’t even blinked a fake eyelash.

“I think I may have misunderstood, Mija,” Hiram says, calmly lifting his teacup to sip before settling it back in its saucer. 

The tiny clink of the porcelain makes Veronica flinch, but not enough for her less than perceptive parents to notice. ‘Jughead would notice’. She finds the thought fleeting as Hiram continues.

“I thought for a brief moment you might have just told us you’re pregnant,” he turns to look his daughter in the eye, and Veronica swallows nervously. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

Veronica feels like she’s on one of those rides that lift a person up very slowly, holding them suspended in the air until they’re dropped with no notice. She feels like she is being dangled in front of Hiram, and she has no idea when she’ll fall. She feels anxiety creep up her spine, and the nerves settle somewhere in her lower abdomen, burning a hole in the pocket of her expensive skirts where a tiny black and white photo rests with her baby looking more like a tiny creature than the tiny human it will end up being.

She had taken it upon herself to schedule a sonogram as soon as she could, and now that she’s 18, for a full two days now, she’s decided telling her parents sooner rather than later would be best. She could use someone on her side, not that she’s convinced they will be, but some small part of Veronica desperately needs them to know. One less secret she has to keep when they continue to grow right along with her belly. She’s already been dodging Jughead like the plague, even if there’s a part of her that badly needs him.

In fact, Jughead’s texted her a handful of times since that first day of school. Mostly he’s asked her about assignments in their AP Lit course, but then the “there’s an Aubrey Hepburn marathon showing at the Bijou” texts had started. “Not that I would ever be caught there,” he’d sent and Veronica had smiled. She knows how he feels about her favorite icon, and had fired back with a prose of the collective works of one Quentin Tarantino and the mediocracy of Jughead’s love affair with him.

There’s been some back and forth, here and there, but when she sees him in the hall she ducks into a classroom or finds a reason she can’t stick to one space for longer than a few moments. Most recently he’s asked her how she’s been and may have mentioned he’s missed her. Veronica had shut him down with a “we’ll always have Paris, Forsythe” to which he hadn’t responded. She thinks it’s better that way. She can’t let him get too close to her. Not if she’s going to protect his heart and her baby.

Veronica steels her gaze, “no daddy, you didn’t misunderstand. It’s true. I’m pregnant.”

“How?” Hermione gasps, and for the first time since she’s admitted her biggest secret out loud, Veronica’s head snaps to her mother. “We were so careful with you Veronica.”

“Well, mother, it seems like I was the one who wasn’t careful with me this time,” Veronica remarks, her heart feeling like it’s going to fall out of her at any moment and splatter against the white tiles. 

She knows her parents can see right through her. She knows they can see her nerves of steel are, in fact, tin foil dressed as steel, and with one crush of either of their hands she would crumble at their feet. Still, Veronica reminds herself she is no longer a child, legally and figuratively, as she moves to sit up straighter and her hands come to rest automatically on her tummy that has gotten much firmer and a bit uncomfortable to sleep on. Whatever happens, she will remain calm and the feeling beneath her palms anchors her.

“I don’t understand,” Hiram’s voice sounds as if he is in physical pain, restraint making his tone thin and bitter. “Veronica, how could you let this happen?”

“I didn’t let anything happen, it just…happened.” She replies, aware she is being addressed by her birth name and not the beloved nickname bestowed on her by her parents.

“You’re in high school,” Hermione is the calmer of the two, but her mouth is tight and Veronica wonders if at any moment she might unhinge the jaw that has swallowed her whole and spit her out multiple times. “What about, college? Your future? Veronica, do you understand what this means?”

“Yes, mother,” she’s growing annoyed and she isn’t sure if it's nausea she’s feeling is nerves or symptoms of being just over 10 weeks pregnant. “I’ve considered all of my options carefully-”

“And?” Hiram interrupts, his fists now curled around his teacup Veronica is worried might shatter. “What plan have you come up with? Hm?”

“I’m keeping it,” she ignores the scoff from her father and the way her mother’s eyes begin to shine under the natural lighting of a bright winter’s day. “I can do classes online my first year, and be home with the baby to take care of them. I can get my own apartment close to campus, and when the baby is old enough, I can enroll them in daycare-”

“Who’s paying for your apartment near campus?” Hiram spits. “Who’s going to pay for daycare Veronica? Were you planning on living off my dime? The same dime you’ve shunned since we’ve come back to Riverdale.”

“I have savings, and-”

“-do you think you have enough to raise a baby-”

“I have enough income from the Speakeasy, and I’ve been saving my birthday checks. I can find a job in New York-”

“New York!?” Hiram’s shouting now, and Veronica does everything she can to not cower. “You think you can make it on your own in New York with a baby?”

“I’ll make it work, daddy. I’m smart enou-”

She’s cut off by a bark of harsh laughter, “you’ll never make it. Veronica, you’ve been spoiled your entire life. One week in New York, with a baby? You’ll come crawling back home.”

“I hardly think getting pregnant in high school is smart, Mija,” Hermione adds, a lone tear sliding down her cheek.

She can’t help it. Between hormones and a lifetime of being squashed under the thumb of her parents, Veronica can feel the plug inside of her shaking loose. They’ve never thought she can accomplish anything on her own. No matter how many times she’s proven them wrong with her own business, or getting into NYU on her own, they always doubt her and she’s had enough. She’s a mom now, and she has to be the best one she can be. 

“Does Archie know?” her mom continues, bringing Veronica’s thoughts back to the present.

She knew this question was coming. She knew she would have to address the matter of paternity. She’d prepared for it, had been consistently preparing for it since the moment she saw the positive on the test, and yet somehow her entire body freezes up like she’s had a cold bucket of water dumped on her head.

“Um,” she starts, but she’s unable to find the words to continue.

“I think I’d like to have a nice chat with Archie,” her dad ignores her flub, teeth grit together.

“Now Hiram, you have to be kind,” her mother reaches for her dad’s hand. Ever the peacekeeper, unless the outcome offers her no benefit.

Veronica used to idolize her mother. She wanted to be just like her when she was young. Now, she vows to be a better mom, using her own as an example of what not to do.

“You don’t tell me what I need to be Hermione,” he continues. “Archie Andrews broke our daughter’s heart, then left her in less than desirable conditions. There will be consequences-”

“No,” it’s barely a whisper, but then Veronica takes a deep breath and starts again stronger. “No. Archie may have broken my heart, daddy, but he-he isn’t—Archie isn’t the father.”

“Veronica!” Hermione chastises, “no tienes respeto por ti mismo!?”

Veronica rolls her eyes, “of course I respect myself mother. I’m not a harlot.”

“Who then?” Hiram studies his daughter’s features, and Veronica wants to run.

Instead, she shakes her head. She can’t let anyone find out about Jughead. Never mind his heart, right now she’s worried about his safety. She believes Hiram will kill him.

“Veronica, I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who is the father?”

Her eyes fill with tears and she’s afraid, but once again she shakes her head.

The teacup and saucer smash against the wall before she even realizes her father has thrown it. She hears her mom scold him, but she has no idea what she’s saying. Fight or flight kicks in and Veronica’s on her feet in a second, sonogram picture laid on the table as she turns to walk, not run, to her bedroom. She won’t give him the satisfaction of running.

“Veronica!” Hiram growls, and she starts to walk faster. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“Hiram,” she hears her mom hiss, then she’s gone around the corner and whatever exchange they have after fades away.

She doesn’t break down until she’s behind her locked bedroom door.

Once she starts, Veronica can’t stop. It’s like a dam has been broken, and she sobs into her pillow openly. She had expected this reaction, but seeing it had been more than she can handle whilst trying to juggle her changing hormones and the overwhelming feeling of not wanting to be alone any longer. She had thought for just a moment, just maybe, her parents wouldn’t shun her or demean her but she was wrong. Once again, she’s left on her own. Her friends in New York had all but fallen off when she came to Riverdale, and her parents had been pawning her on nannies practically since the day she was born. Betty had left, Archie had left, Jughead had left…

Jughead.

Veronica can’t possibly tell her dad that he’s the father, not if she wants Jughead alive. Hiram hasn’t forgiven Jughead, any of the Serpent’s really, and he being the guilty party responsible for her own precarious condition would be nothing more than a death note signed in his favor. She would do anything in her power to shield him from any more trauma. He may have chosen Betty over her, but she does not have to stoop so low as to throw away her feelings for him as she throws him under the bus.

She would never, ever do anything to hurt Jughead and for just a moment she lets herself think about what it would mean if she were able to be honest with him. 

Would he be happy? Angry? Confused? She imagined not going alone to her appointments and even giggles when she imagines his face during a Lamaze class. She laughed even harder imagining his face during the actual birth, and wonders if he would be okay with all the blood since they’ve all had their fair share with the fluid throughout their obscene youths in Riverdale. She wonders if he knows any lullaby’s, had been hummed any by his own mom in his youth, and how quickly he would catch on to some of her own favorite’s sung in Spanish.

Would he leave Betty? Would he want to be with her? Veronica slips out of her structured clothing and makes her way into her en-suite bathroom to scrub away the day’s disaster, pondering over what it would mean for Jughead and her if he knew he’s going to be a father. Part of her, however fleeting, wonders if he would care at all. Would it be better or worse if didn’t care, and left her on her own? Veronica shakes her head as she lets the hot water wash away that horrible thought.

She knows the way his heart works. She knows the kind of person Jughead is, and if he knew the baby in her tummy was half of him, he would absolutely care. She gets a bit of a thrill thinking of him leaving Betty to be with her. Smiles wickedly to herself imagining the blonde’s face, and Archie’s, when they hear Veronica’s got Jughead’s bun in her oven. She gets a sense of glee; the ultimate revenge to those that had hurt them most. Bitter, sweet, and she gets her little family while they eat what they’ve sowed.  
Almost as quickly as she imagines running to her vanity to grab her phone, she chastises herself.

‘No, Veronica.’

As much as she would love to imagine it, the fact remains; she doesn’t want Jughead to be with her just because she’s having his baby. She doesn’t want him to lay with her every night when Betty is on his mind. She imagines his growing resentment at her through the years. Imagines him leaving her one day after their child is grown, that he’s never loved her and he’s only been with her because he needed to. She imagines him saying “I had no choice,” and it tears her in two. A ghost of emotion passing through her when she thinks of the night, he’d left her for the last time.  
Veronica doesn’t even realize tears have silently been falling down her cheek until she’s turned the water off and steps out of the shower. She wraps herself in a big, fluffy towel and moves through to her bedroom. She doesn’t want Jughead to be with her just because she’s pregnant. She wants him to be with her because he wants to. She wants him to be with her because—because deep down Veronica knows there’s always been a part of them that has been too similar to ignore, even though they both had for the sake of their partners. 

She wants him to choose her, and not just because he feels like a knight in shining armor who has to save her because she’s delicate. Veronica Lodge may only be 5 foot even and weigh 115 pounds, but fragile she is not. When Jughead had walked out on her that night, she hadn’t even shed a tear. What’re two weeks compared to the years she had spent with Archie? Convincing herself that Jughead was only a distraction, when deep inside she knows not that was wrong.

Part of her is wondering if she can convince the redhead he’s the father, and lie about her due date, but she quickly squashes that idea. She’s completely over Archie, and she is not that person. She would rather be alone than trick someone into helping her raise her baby.

Veronica grabs her phone and tucks herself under her covers for comfort. She scrolls through the messages Jughead has sent her. She’s never texted him first, she realizes, and it had been her that had cut their last conversation short. God, has he been trying to breach the elephant in the room and she’s been blind to it? Would it really be horrible for her to want some semblance of a friendship with him? She’s lying to him, or she’s going to lie to him. Does it make her selfish?

She’s not so sure she cares as she pulls up a blank message to type out and send. Her first time reaching out to him, elephants and ways to get them out of the way on her mind.

‘One morning I shot an elephant in my pajamas,’ she sends, knowing he has a bit of an affinity for Groucho Marx.

It takes a few minutes, but then her phone dings and her heart skips a beat.

‘How he got into your pajamas, I don’t know.’

Veronica smiles. She’ll worry about being selfish later. Right now, she just wants to be a teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know by now I'm a slut for your love! So be sure to leave me some if you're still enjoying this bit of Jeronica.


	4. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the flow so far has definitely been more typical story like so I'm just going with it. Still not Beta'd, be gentle my lovelies. I'll keep writing as the inspiration strikes. What are you hoping to see from this story? Thanks for reading!

J- ‘No heels today? Hath Hell frozen into an arctic tundra?’

V- ‘No, but Riverdale certainly has.’

Veronica is biting the inside of her bottom lip, suppressing the grin trying to split her plum painted pout in two. She quickly glances up through her lashes at Mrs. Haggly, their history teacher, to make sure she’s still well into the PowerPoint she’s presenting before back down at the phone she has rested on her thigh gracefully. The screen is dulled, but she sees it flash just enough to notify her of his response. She imagines him one row to her right, and three seats back, lounging back in his seat with his phone nestled behind the curve of his elbow.

J- ‘Hasn’t stopped you before. How you’ve survived three winters here is beyond me.’

He’s right, and quite more observant than she’s given him credit for in the past. It would be Jughead who’s noticed her choice in footwear today is indeed a new trend for her. Simply put, after nearly falling on her face two steps outside of the Pembrooke a few days earlier she had decided to head into the city for a warm pair of more practical winter footwear. After all, falling could be dangerous for her baby, and at nearing 12 weeks Veronica hasn’t considered herself out of the clear just yet as is.

V- ‘I’ve finally decided to adapt. Spending any amount of my senior year in a cast just is not the way I want to go.’

No, instead she’ll be sent off nearly full-term with a belly full of baby. 

Veronica has a moment where her mind drifts, allowing it to wander through some of the memories she’d always planned in her head and how they’ll all be different now. For starters, the prom gown she had ordered from Jovani would need some significant alterations to accommodate her bump. Not to mention, she would more than likely need to order a medium instead of a small in regards to her graduation gown. Hopefully, she'll gain most of her pregnancy weight in her middle, so her senior portrait would turn out fine. She imagined turning her Vixen’s uniform in. No way she could complete the basketball season now, and she’s already anticipated Cheryl’s questioning.

Her screen flashing draws her eyes back down to her thigh, strategically unlocking the phone.

J- ‘Oh, of course not. The cast would clash with the red carpet roll out and distract from the live doves let free just as you exit the school for the last time.’

V- ‘Don’t forget about the crown, Forsythe. Don’t want to take attention away from that either.’

J ‘Tsk Tsk, Veronica. Only one of us wears a crown around here. Don’t go stepping on any toes with those new fancy boots of yours.’

She stifles a laugh, disguising it while clearing her throat before she chances a glance back over her right shoulder. Jughead’s smirking, a pencil scratching under his infamous crown beanie near his left temple to drive home his point. She wrinkles her nose up at him before turning back to the front of the classroom to respond to him.

The bell rings before she gets the chance. Sighing, Veronica expects them to part ways now like they’ve been doing for a couple of weeks. It’s been a bit of a dance between them; texting under the guise of sarcastic wit and pragmatism, but never coming close enough in the flesh they may be mistaken for actual friends without Betty or Archie acting as a buffer. She knows it’s a bit dangerous, but Jughead provides her with the comfort she has desperately needed. 

In the weeks following her announcement to her parents, Hiram’s kept himself locked away in his office. Not even sparing her a side glance at breakfast, Veronica feels the utter disappointment seeping from her father as it leeches into her tanned skin and squeezes her lungs. She has never felt his rejection of her more than now, and it’s had her thinking more and more of the repercussions of her own child feeling rejected by their own father. 

Even worse, feeling as though it’s her own fault for not even giving them a chance.

Hermione had come to Veronica that same evening of her announcement. Sonogram in hand and tears blurring the brown of her eyes, she hugged her daughter tightly and whispered to her in Spanish words of love. Veronica had felt young again, clinging to her mom, a hopeful feeling blooming in her chest until Hermione had stepped back and told her she needed more time and was incredibly disappointed in her regardless of her love. That hopeful feeling seeped out of her, replaced by the swirl of denial and whiplash. The only piece of her that hadn’t died at that moment had watched her mom clutch the sonogram picture in her fists, not willing to give it up.

Since then, she’s taken solace in texting Jughead at all hours. It’s stupid of her, and she knows she’ll have to say goodbye to him eventually, but that’s not enough to stop her. She tells herself it’s because they’re friends, nothing more, but she thinks she might be lying to herself. She tells herself Jughead will believe her when she tells him it’s not his baby, but she thinks that might be a lie too. Most of all, Veronica tells herself her heart will not be broken, but every time they pretend they haven’t been texting constantly, and they are just simply bystanders of a core four bigger than themselves, it shatters a bit more.

Imagine her surprise when Jughead stops next to her desk, bag slung over the shoulder of his yellow plaid Sherpa jacket. Her heart may or may not skip a beat when she stands to meet his gaze, hyper-aware of the fact he is close to a foot taller than her when she is without her precious stilettos.

“Woe is the Princess unable to carry the crown,” he states.

“But how would I keep my head held so high if it were weighed down?” She arches an eyebrow, and he smirks at her.

“True enough words coming from someone who may or may not need a step stool to look the bearer of the crown in the eye-”

He’s cut off when Veronica shoves him playfully in the arm, gasping in mock shock of words meant to elicit a reaction. One which she has given to him, and she feels like a normal teenager flirting with her crush for one fleeting moment before she has to swallow down a mouthful of ash.

“You wound me,” he jokes, rubbing his arm where she’s made contact. An elegant hand coming to cover his heart and Veronica thinks about that same hand ghosting the pressure points of her throat.  
She quickly presses her thighs together, and his eyes flit quickly down her body and she has this embarrassing moment of thinking he’s noticed the minuscule movement. She authentically adjusts her stance, moving her history book in front of her stomach. If he’s into the business of noticing minor differences, Veronica doesn’t want to take the chance of him noticing her stomach is not as flat as it once was.

She just noticed this morning the bit of bulge under her belly button; like a pouch she had never noticed before, and she had giggled thinking of herself as a kangaroo. Luckily, she’s still small enough for the outside world not to notice, but just in case she had worn a fit and flare skirt instead of her usual skin-tight apparel. 

“I will wound you,” she tells him, “if you make me late to lunch.”

“Hey,” he chastises, gesturing her toward the door of the emptying classroom and trailing along behind her as she makes to leave. “I’m the one who’s a bottomless pit here. You eat, wait, what do you even eat besides milkshakes from Pop’s and stolen onion rings?”

Veronica laughs sweetly, tucking a piece of her raven hair behind her ear.

“You don’t get to monopolize hunger, Jughead, regardless of your almost astonishing ability to eat more than an adult hippopotamus.”

“Sure Veronica,” he smiles, stopping next to her when they reach her locker. “Hey, are you eating in the library again today?”

Veronica averts her attention to the lock in front of her, successfully getting her combination to pop it open before answering. 

“I think it’s where I’ll be spending my lunches for the time being,” she tells him. “If I stand a chance winning the scholarship I’m after I need to stay as focused as I can.”

Veronica doesn’t dare tell him the truth. She’s already won the academic scholarship she had sought out to claim, and she’s been eating in the library because she’s been experiencing some pretty adverse reactions to food. She’s also been starting to crave things she didn’t think possible, and the last thing she wants anyone to notice is her moaning over a sweet pickle she’s running through a dollop of peanut butter and sprinkled with siracha. 

“Need some company?” He asks, and she feels the hair on the back of her neck stand to life as a shiver prickles her skin in goosebumps. 

She hasn’t anticipated his asking her anything, let alone addressing her in the halls of their school without their safety nets in place. There’s a heartbreaking moment she wants to reach out to him, clasp his hand in hers, scream yes because she wants him by her side. She wants his company, of course, she does. But the moment is quick as a flash before it crashes to her feet, and her hesitation is enough for the corners of his mouth to turn down. 

“I guess that’s going to be a no, then?” He tries on, hunching in on himself just enough and scuffing the toe of his worn docs against the tile below his foot.

“Jughead, I-” Veronica tries, stops, then tries again. “I just- I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

She busies herself in her locker to hide the tension she feels in her jaw. He can read her like a book and right now, the chapters flowing from her would be enough to uproot every secret she’s trying to keep. Her tears well up (damn hormones) when she hears him sigh in disappointment, and she thinks she may actually start crying. This sadness is a stark contrast to their playful banter from a few moments ago.

“If you don’t want to be friends Veronica, just say so. You wouldn’t be the first,” and with that, he’s pushing away from her locker to slump over to his own.

She reaches out to him on instinct, her arm jutting toward him of its own volition.

“Jughead!” She calls, watery and thick and she thinks it might be her biggest tell. 

When he turns back to her, his own turquoise orbs shiny under the harsh fluorescent lighting, Veronica’s knees almost buckle. Her hand slides from his wrist, up his forearm, and settles near his elbow and his lips part just enough for her to spot those too big for his mouth front teeth she absolutely adores.

Glancing around to make sure they aren’t garnering attention; she quickly pulls him into an empty classroom.

“It has nothing to do with not wanting to be friends,” she hisses when they’re closed in the safety of the chem lab.

“Then what?” He asks, unslinging his bag and dropping it on a table before crossing his arms in a defensive state. He’s moved a step away from her, her hand slipping from his arm, and she just wants to reach out again and pull him back.

“Come on, Jug,” Veronica starts, but a loan tear betrays her and slides down her cheek. “Please don’t be angry.”

“I’m not,” he starts and sniffs back his own tears. “I’m not mad, V. I just, I don’t get why you started texting me if friendship wasn’t going to be on the table.”

He trails off, tearing the beanie off his head and running a frustrated hand through his hair before pulling it back over the dark locks. Veronica thinks it’s a damn shame he keeps hair that good kept hidden away.

“Of course, we’re friends,” she tells him, but her stomach drops at the thought because she doesn't want to be just friends.

“Are we?” He questions as he raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that what we are?”

His eyes harden with steel reserve, and she can see the challenge in them. Veronica’s spine straightens under his stare and she wonders who will break first. The air around them grows thick and she finds her thighs instinctively flexing beneath her skirts again.

“I think about you,” he tells her suddenly and she sucks in a breath as he continues. “I think about you all the time Veronica.”

“I think about you too,” she admits to him and his arms drop down to his sides. 

“Then what are we doing?” He asks, taking a step closer toward her. “Why do you avoid me? We text non-stop, but then you think I don’t notice you, noticing me, ducking away from me before you think I see you but Veronica, I always see you.”

Her heart seizes up in her chest and she doesn’t move away immediately when his hand comes out to rest against her cheek.

“What secrets are you hiding?” He whispers, so close to her now she could slip her arms around his middle if she wanted to. And she does want to.

She thinks he would let her, and she closes her eyes against him.

“I can’t,” Veronica tells him and she hates herself so viciously.

It’s on the tip of her tongue. It’s rolling around behind her molars, sliding against her throat as his hand slides against her neck to cup her jaw and tip her head back. Veronica keeps her eyes squeezed tight and for one terrifying moment she thinks he might kiss her here in this classroom. If he does, she’ll come clean. She’ll tell him everything, she just knows it.

Veronica can’t do that to Betty, and she can’t do that to herself. Mostly though, she can't do that to Jughead. He isn't a cheater. He would never forgive himself.

“I can’t,” she tells him again, and her brown eyes open to meet his own.

Jughead looks intense, brows drawn over his eyes as they search her face.

“Tell me,” he insists, but she shakes her head.

Veronica lets the warmth from his hand seep into her skin for one more moment before she shakes her head again, stepping back to let his fingers fall away from her. She wants to burst into tears because this man is in front of her now, asking her to be honest with him and he’s the father of her baby. He’s connected to her. They’ve created a life together and she’s keeping it from him. Why? Why is she doing this to both of them?

“Ronnie,” his voice cracks.

“Jughead-“

“Why?” He interrupts her. 

“Because, I-I…”   
“You what? Come on, please…”

‘I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and it’s yours’ she thinks to herself over and over. 

“You’re not alone, remember?” He alludes to their first night together, “whatever it is, you don’t have to be alone.”

She almost tells him then. She almost lets it out because it’s been 12 weeks and she can still taste him on her tongue. She can still feel him inside of her and feel his weight on top of her. She hears him in her head laugh that goofy boyish laugh when he’s authentically humored and Veronica doesn’t want to be alone. She’s fucking terrified to be a single mom and Jughead is standing here right now, and she truly almost opens her mouth and tells him he’s going to be a dad.

Then the lunch bell rings, and the trance is broken.

“I need to get out of her,” she tells him, pushing past him.

Her hand is just on the doorknob, ready to leave when he calls out to her.

“Veronica!” She turns to look at him as he’s pulling the strap of his bag back up over his shoulder. “I meant what I said. You’re not alone.”

Veronica smiles softly before a flash of blonde hair catches her attention and she sees Betty bouncing past on her way to Jughead’s locker. She’s sure the pastel princess is looking for her crowned prince, and suddenly Veronica feels very much like the pauper. 

“You’re not alone either,” she tells him and the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Betty’s waiting for you at your locker.”

His face falls but she only catches the first moment of it as she pushes through the door and out into the hallway, emptying of students heading to the lunch hall if they have A lunch or their last class before B lunch. 

Veronica stomps toward the library, ever the indomitable force with or without her heels.

Jughead doesn’t text her for the rest of the day, and she doesn’t text him.

Later that night she stares at herself in her full-length mirror again, turning side to side and pushing her belly out as big as it can get before letting it fall back into place. As sad as she feels, there’s a heat pulsing from her as she rubs a hand over the small bump of her tummy.

“He’s right,” she whispers to herself and a small, sad smile. “I’m not alone either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos? Comments? Please? I'll beg...I won't beg. I'll be appreciative though!


	5. Rumors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Veronica’s pregnant, Jug."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...this was going to be one chapter, then it was going to be like 10,000 words and I was like TOO MUCH. So we have Jughead, then we'll have Veronica, THEN we'll have a confrontation, but I also have a few one-shots going in relation to this story because I just write what comes to me. I really am falling more in love with everything I'm writing and I appreciate every single person that's been showing love. You all rock. Thank you!

It’s like a splinter, digging into his thumb, irritating but extremely difficult to see without a magnifying glass. Every time he walks through the halls of Riverdale High and he sees her, no longer hiding from him but certainly not allowing herself to be caught in his crosshairs, that splinter digs a little deeper. 

It’s almost uncomfortable how naturally she avoids him. Jughead gets that deep sense of rejection that’s a seed planted years ago when his mother left him behind, watered by the way anyone and everyone he’s ever cared about has left him in one way or another. 

His dad had chosen a bottle over him, and even though he’s spent the past couple of years trying to make up for lost time, Jughead still has moments he stares at FP and wonders how they’ve ever managed to come back from where they’ve been. Archie had abandoned him back in freshman year for Grundy, followed by the bulldogs, followed by Veronica. Even though they’ve been orbiting one another, their relationship has never been the same since. Especially not now, after he and Betty kissed.

Betty…

He thinks maybe her abandonment has been the worst of them all. She was the first person he had felt totally safe with. He’d lowered his walls for her, regardless of his trepidation, because she had promised him she loved him. She had promised it was them, together, and she could trust him. It was utter bullshit and every single bitter fear he’s ever had came true multiple times over their relationship. Multiple times he’s felt the need to question her loyalty, always feeling second best. It’s not been fair at all. 

Jughead thinks he’ll never meet a person he can trust completely, especially now that Veronica has joined the side of keeping things from him.

Jughead knows there’s something going on with her, and he finds it difficult to accept the unshakeable Veronica Lodge would be rattled enough by having sex she’s taken it upon herself to avoid him. They haven’t outright talked about it, but they’ve circled the topic a few times. He knows he certainly thinks about it, sometimes at the most inopportune moments, but that hasn’t been enough to drive that wedge between him and the longing for any kind of acknowledgment from the raven-haired princess.

Veronica is too good at dodging left when he goes right; a natural at pushing people away and it’s almost annoying that she’s better at it than he is. Jughead is the one to push back and slink away when the going gets tough. His insecurities feed him in ways that leave him hungry, and the fact he even tries at all with the Lodge after she’s continued to leave him starving is a mystery he’s given up on solving.

He thinks he might already know why, anyway, and having such impure thoughts while he’s committed to someone else isn’t something he’s entirely comfortable with.

Jughead knows he’s a lot of things: trailer trash, moody, a gang member. The list goes on, but the more aspects of himself he ticks off the more sideways he feels. The one thing that keeps him rooted is knowing what he isn’t, and that’s a careless person bent on hurting others and if he acknowledges what Veronica actually means to him, at least out loud, he can bet on that particular thing jumping lists.

Mentally, Jughead already feels some guilt. Not because he regrets his time spent with Veronica, at all. Rather, that he feels no guilt about it in the least and he actually thinks he would enjoy more time with her. He hasn’t crossed any boundaries physically since he decided to return to Betty, but mentally he’s broken through every barrier and chain put into place that tying oneself to another entails.

‘That’ Jughead thinks to himself, ‘might be worse.’

When Betty kisses him, he can taste the cinnamon gum Veronica chews, and smell her musky floral scent. When they hold hands, he can’t help but notice how her pretty pink polish doesn’t quite stand out against his pale skin like the deep purple hue Veronica gets painted onto her better-filed nails does. Making love to Betty is starting to feel like anything but love, and he’s caught himself more than once closing his eyes against her to picture tanned skin and natural darkness gazing up at him with pure seduction.

Jughead has definitely mentally cheated on Betty in more ways than he can count, and it does nothing but make him angry. Angry at himself because this is the life he chose, and angry at Betty because she fucking started this whole thing. Didn’t she? 

When she kissed Archie, twice, didn’t she set into motion this rolling ball of mortar meant to bind the materials of fate? Wasn’t that what had driven him and Veronica into one another’s arms in the first place? He had certainly thought so once, but Jughead is a writer and he’s written stories over and over of the first time he had ever laid eyes on Veronica Lodge.

He thinks maybe fate had been written then instead, in the vinyl booth at Pops he had slung himself over to plop down beside her. When he had first caught a whiff of her obviously expensive perfume and had self-consciously remembered he was wearing the same socks he’d been wearing for three days with the moth-eaten hole in one of the big toes. When he’d seen how shiny and soft her hair looked, knowing his infamous beanie was hiding the grease of his own because the drive-in didn’t have a proper shower and he hadn’t been able to wash it in the sinks in almost a week. When he had decided that very moment that Veronica was too good for him, and would never want someone that couldn’t offer her the world on an expensive, shiny platter. 

Jughead thinks he had written his own fate then, but hadn’t he been right?

He thinks that’s why he decided to make it work with Betty when she apologized to him, begging for his forgiveness. She was closure to him, for him, from Veronica. Closer to the ground and more reachable. Betty didn’t smell like $200 perfume and she wasn’t wrapped in clothing so expensive just one piece of it could pay his rent for a month. Betty, who kept hurting him, deserved to be held back and pinned down by a boy who may or may not ever earn enough cash to afford the luxurious life Veronica deserves to live. Isn’t that what it boils down to? What Veronica deserves and not what he deserves? Isn’t he punishing himself because he thinks she can, KNOWS she can, and will do better?

Those weeks he’d spent wrapped in Veronica was as good as a dream at this point. He isn’t sure any of its real anymore. He thinks it is, but she’s so damn good at pretending it isn’t. She has a tell, like when her lips part when they make eye contact or her posture slumps just the slightest when she shifts her weight back and forth, but he can’t tell anymore if it’s out of the lust he thought they shared or disgust for letting herself be touched by hands not dipped in silver or gold. 

That’s what Veronica won’t tell him, he thinks; he’s not good enough for her. She doesn’t like to hurt people, says the name Lodge has hurt people enough and she has to make amends. He thinks she’s right, but still, he begs her to tell him so he can rip these last threads of hopefulness he can’t seem to tear through. Ever the glutton for pain, these are the pictures Jughead paints for himself to stay in his character of the brooding writer. 

Lover of those who seems not in want of being loved by the likes of those who love them most.

Sometimes he even lets himself wonder if she would settle for him, but he knows he’ll never let her. Veronica’s head is in the clouds and he’s stuck to the concrete like old gum. She’s too high above him and he chastises himself forever feeling like it may have been different if he hadn’t put his energy into Betty first.

Sighing, he’s plagued by another day at Riverdale High with these thoughts bouncing around his head. Another day he’ll see her in the halls and they’ll do nothing more than dance around one another and play the parts they’ve been given. Maybe they’ll share a text, maybe they’ll smile at one another or maybe today will be one of those days Veronica’s secrets are too heavy and she’ll carry them in the frown lines on her face and in the way she avoids him.

“I’m eating in the library to study,” she tells everyone pretty consistently, but Jughead has seen her in passing lounging in the library with books of poems instead of stats.

Jughead knows Veronica has already won the literary scholarship to NYU. He’d figured it out pretty early on, but calling her out wasn’t going to do him any good. There’s a reason Veronica continues to want to be alone, to separate from him and their former friends. 

He should probably follow her lead if he’s honest.

He’s going away to Iowa at the end of the year, and Betty to Connecticut. That might be his chance for a clean break. There’s a distance growing between them, has been for a while, driven by the moon eyes he sees her give Archie but he can’t leave. He’s angry at himself for accepting this as his fate, and he thinks Veronica is so much stronger than he ever will be. 

Jughead’s too wrapped up in his own mind, and in the music, he has filled his eardrums with as he pushes through the hall to his locker begrudgingly. He doesn’t hear the whispers going on around him, high school gossip hitting a gold mine of proportions. Jughead doesn’t notice the way people dart from pod to pod, whispering and pointing past him as he reaches his locker, to one about a dozen away from his own where he knows the brunette girl who haunts him stands.

It isn’t until he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out to see her name flash across his screen with a text message at the same time Betty approaches him, wide-eyed and frantic, that he finally decides to lower the headphones away from his ears. He tucks the phone away in his back pocket without looking at the text.

“Can you believe it?” Betty whispers, and Jughead doesn’t have any idea what she means. 

“I can’t believe a lot of things Bets, but in this case, you’re going to have to elaborate.”

“You haven’t heard the rumors?” She asks, and glances around them in the halls, effectively garnering a similar response from him.

He sees them now, like social piranhas flashing their teeth at one another when there’s any sign of juicy information to be had. 

“What rumors?” Jughead asks absent-mindedly, watching as Veronica slams her locker shut and makes for the exit. He suddenly feels a chill run up his spine when he notices a few of his peers leer at her over their shoulders.

“I thought I noticed something off about her, but that? I never would’ve guessed,” Betty continues, completely ignoring his question.

Jughead turns to toss his bag in his locker when he hears someone to his right say her name.

“Yeah, Veronica Lodge. Do you think Archie knows?”

His head snaps in their direction, and he narrows his eyes. Ever the astute pupil, Jughead knows something weird is going on and he feels himself on the verge of panicking. What’s wrong with Veronica? Almost burning him from his back pocket, Jughead remembers her text and slides his phone out, fingers shaking as he slides it to unlocked.

V- Jughead I’m so sorry. You deserve more than this.

He frowns in confusion, glancing up just in time to see her throw him a look over her shoulder. Their eyes meet, and the wind pushes out of his lungs like they’ve been squeezed in vice grips. Then she turns enough for her coat to catch, and he notices her shape is off. He sees a pull where once there was just flow. He sees her hand come and rest on the precarious bump, sees him notice, sees her bristle just enough to shake off any unsuspecting stares, and then she’s gone. Pushed through the doors and into the outside world, only moments after pieces of a puzzle Jughead has never even considered starting to slant into place.

“I’m mad she didn’t tell me, but I understand why she felt like she couldn’t.” Betty bites her lip, also looking in the direction of where her ex-friend had just decided to leave and skip out on classes. Completely unaware of the moment, the flash of recognition amongst two that have seemingly created a one.

“Tell you what?” Jughead tries, but his words are quiet and strained. 

He’s catching snippets of words in the moments he’s taken off his headphones and seen her, and he’s completely uncaring of what Betty has to say but he needs to know. He needs someone to say it.  
Jughead feels absolute desolation tearing at him from somewhere deep inside and if he stops to allow himself to feel, he thinks it might be his heart tearing itself to shreds. If it’s true, if what he’s hearing, seeing, thinking is true, he doesn’t know how he’ll catch himself. He doesn’t know how he’ll recover, how they, he and Veronica, will recover. 

Then Betty opens her mouth, and the entire world drops out from underneath him.

“Veronica’s pregnant, Jug.”

Veronica’s pregnant, Jug.

Three words, one meaning, infinite amounts of emotions that crush him to a pulp where he stands. Where he barely stands, he notes, as his feet turn to led and his equilibrium shifts. Grey edges out his vision and there’s a tunnel leading straight ahead of him. The entire world slows down and suddenly he’s inside of this fishbowl, drowning in the connotations of the past 30 seconds.

“Juggy?” Betty moves into the tunnel, concern etched into the soft lines of her face. “Are you okay?”

That’s what he thinks she says, but he’s really had to focus on the way her mouth had formed the words because he had only heard this rushing sound in his ears and a pounding in his head. His entire body is buzzing and clammy because Veronica is pregnant and Jughead knows with everything he is and has that the baby is his. 

He needs to go to her. Screw school, screw Betty, Archie, the Serpents, Hiram, screw everyone and everything. Right now, he just needs to find her. Every single intent to protect what they had, to give Veronica more by letting her go just flies out the window. 

He needs…to…

Suddenly everything shifts sideways and the last thing Jughead hears is Betty shouting his name before he hits the tile floor at his feet.

No wonder she’s been avoiding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jughead knows!! Now what??

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, leave some love if you enjoyed it. I like hearing from my readers!


End file.
